I Fed Him 1,036 Dishes，He Called Me a Stalker

Six years. 1,036 dishes. I destroyed my body to save his career — tasting every recipe he couldn't taste himself, gaining 110 pounds, ruining my stomach — because the night he lost his sense of taste, he swallowed a bottle of pills and I swore I'd never leave. The night he finally won, he held another woman's hand on the podium, called her his partner, stole my notebook, and had me arrested as a stalker. He forgot one thing: there are two notebooks. The second one — with every recipe he needs for his live TV special — is still in my bag. By the time he realizes, I'm 35,000 feet in the air, building an empire of my own.